


Tougher Than the Rest

by fannyanne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Punisher (Comics), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can you tell that I don't know what to tag this?, F/M, Frank constantly needs patching up, Frank is in the UK causing trouble, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyanne/pseuds/fannyanne
Summary: Kiera has spent the last 5 years desperately avoiding trouble. So what's she to do when trouble shows up in the form of Frank Castle? The answer should be anything other than become his personal medic.Or Frank follows trouble and, as always, trouble follows him.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Original Character(s), Frank Castle/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	1. If You're Rough Enough For Love

**Author's Note:**

> This idea will not leave me alone. I blame late nights at work when all I want to do is get home and finish watching the Punisher. Enjoy!

_“Well it's Saturday night, you're all dressed up in blue  
I been watching you awhile, maybe you been watching me too”_

Kiera stripped off a glove and turned the radio up as loud as she dared, considering that she was still at work and it was getting close to ten o’clock at night. Looking around, she took in the bombsite that was currently her surgery. There was no way that she was leaving the practice any time soon and there was no harm in making the process as enjoyable as possible. If that meant singing out of tune to Springsteen then so be it. 

_“So somebody ran out, left somebody's heart in a mess  
Well if you're looking for love, honey I'm tougher than the rest”_

She allowed the steady rhythm of the music to gently guide her movements as she snapped on a new pair of gloves and set to work. Just under four hours ago, she had been settling in for another evening of watching poor quality baking shows and eating pre-made icing from a tub. She’d all but forgotten that she was on call that weekend and was definitely not prepared for the panicked phone call that she'd received. 

Sarah, the dentist Kiera generally nursed with, had quickly explained that a close friend of hers had been mugged and the little shits had kicked his face in for good measure. After the paramedics had looked him over and declared that beyond some nasty bruises and a busted lip, all of his injuries were dental, he had elected to refuse further care at the hospital. Kiera couldn’t blame him for this decision, Sarah was one of the best clinicians she’d ever worked with and in all honesty, she wouldn’t have trusted anyone else either. 

Any resentment that she might have felt about being pulled from her weekend ritual had evaporated when she laid eyes on the poor man’s bloody mouth. By some miracle, they had managed to save some of the affected teeth but just as many had to be extracted. They’d worked for several hours and used just about every instrument and material possible. 

After a heartfelt thank you, Sarah had left to take her friend home, leaving Kiera to deal with the chaos that used to be her dental surgery. Despite her growing fatigue, she was determined to do a thorough job. Every surface she looked at was contaminated in one way or another and there was no way she was leaving that for someone to find on Monday.

Collecting all the used instruments onto a single tray to take towards the decontamination room, Kiera continued her enthusiastic accompaniment to the brutally honest yet deeply romantic love song. It was a personal favourite of hers and was just what she needed to keep her going.

_“Some girls they want a handsome Dan or some good-lookin' Joe,  
on their arm some girls like a sweet-talkin' Romeo  
Well 'round here baby, I learned you get what you can get  
So if you're rough enough for love, honey I'm tougher than the rest”_

A rough but slightly amused voice remarked from behind her, “It’s a good job the Boss aint anywhere near here girl, don’t think he’d much appreciate you butcherin’ his good work.”

The sudden interjection caused Kiera to turn around with such velocity that the tray she was holding flew out of her grip, clattering to the floor with a resounding crash. Her flight and fight kicked in simultaneously, rooting her to the spot entirely as she stared into the darkest eyes she’d ever seen.

Her mind went completely blank until her only coherent thought was: _I’m going to die._

“Woah, easy girl, you’re okay. I didn’t mean to startle ya. You’re not in any danger, I promise.” The stranger held his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture as if he was attempting to calm a frightened animal. She knew that her eyes must’ve appeared wild as they darted around, taking in the hulking figure that was currently occupying the doorway to the surgery.

Kiera struggled to control her mad impulse to laugh at his words. 

_Not in any danger. Of course I’m completely safe at ten o’clock at night, alone with a strange man covered head to toe in tactical gear, an arsenal of terrifying looking weapons and more bruises than I can count. Not to mention the fucking skull on his vest._

Before she could compose herself enough to construct a reply, her frantic thought process was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath, “Fuck, Ma’am, your hand… you’re bleedin’.” 

She immediately glanced down at her hands, realising that they were still hovering in front of her holding a phantom tray. A thin line of crimson cut across the glove on her left palm and a steady drop of blood was falling to the floor. She hadn’t even noticed. 

The shock that had paralysied her limbs broke all at once and she grabbed her hand, taking a step forward. The intruder’s shoulders tensed minutely, stopping her in her tracks. Kiera swallowed thickly before forcing herself to say, “I must’ve cut myself on the surgical blade. It was used. On a patient, I mean. I need to wash the wound out. Please.” Her voice sounded foregin to her, scratchy and hesitant, as if she hadn’t spoken for weeks. She was pleased, however, that it was steadier than she felt.

What looked like concern foroughed her observer’s brow as he gestured towards the sink, ushering her to continue. Stepping around the mess on the floor, she removed her gloves and started to flush the cut on her palm. Aware that her every movement was being studied, she used her other hand to squeeze the gash, unable to stop the small wince that escaped her lips.

“Hey, hey, what’re you doing?! You’re making it worse!” 

Kiera looked up to see that he had moved closer to her, standing now just within arm’s reach. Confusion mingled with the concern on his heavily bruised face. Again, she had to stop the hysterical laughter that threatened to explode from her. She couldn’t process how bizarre this whole situation was. A man who was built like a tank and armed to the teeth had broken into her dental practice for some unknown reason and was now worried about her wellbeing. 

_I’m going to have to wake up soon. This is far too insane to be real._

Shaking her head slowly, Kiera replied, “The blade that I cut myself on was contimanted with someone else’s blood. I need to encourage bleeding to reduce the risk of anything that the patient might have being passed on to me. I’ll need to get some tests done anyway, though. Just in case.”

Understanding flooded his features, quickly followed by remorse. Kiera was not sure if she’d ever seen a face so expressive and closed off at the same time. 

“Ah, fuck. I’m sorry, Ma’am, I truly am. I didn’t mean ta sneak up on ya and scare the shit of ya. It looked like this place was empty, no lights on out front, no cars either. Didn’t realise anyone was ‘ere until I was already in and I could hear your little karaoke session.” He gave her a slightly lopsided grin with that comment, “ I shoulda walked right back out the moment I heard ya and found another place. I’m sorry for causing you bother, Ma’am. I, uh, hope that your tests come back okay.”

With that, the stranger nodded at her and turned to leave. Kiera knew that she should feel relieved but she didn’t. Despite his appearance, she was starting to believe what this man had said to begin with; that he had no intention of hurting her. Going against her better instincts, she turned off the tap and grabbed his forearm with her good hand. 

“Wait. Why are you here in the first place? Why are you breaking into a dental practice late at night?” The words came out much faster than she had intended, as if she needed to get them out before she lost her resolve. It took a second for her actions to sink in before she realised that she was still gripping the man’s arm. 

She wasn’t aware that she had a death wish before now but that could be the only reasonable explanation for what she’d just done. 

_You have completely lost it, Kiera. Why the fuck did you stop him from leaving? And why did you touch him?? In fact why are you still touching him?! And most of all why are you thinking about how defined and muscular his-_

Kiera abruptly cut off her inner dialogue before she descended into dangerous territory. She slowly lifted her gaze to gauge his reaction to the hand that still rested on his arm. Finding a fair amount of surprise but thankfully no anger in his expression, she moved away and busied herself with wrapping her injured palm now that the cut was thoroughly cleaned. She prayed that the violent blush she felt spreading across her cheeks and neck wasn't as noticeable as it felt.

When she was finished, he shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, finally responding to her question, “I, uh, ran into some trouble earlier. Got myself a nasty cut ‘ere,” with that he turned slightly to show her his shoulder where his top was slashed, exposing an angry looking wound. Noting the alarm on her face, he continued, “I’ve had much worse before, darlin’, I’m fine. But I need stitches and a guy looking like I do can’t exactly stroll inta the hospital, ya know?”

Remembering her initial thoughts when she first saw him in the doorway, Kiera was inclined to agree with that assessment. 

“So you broke in here-”

“Actually Ma’am, the doors weren’t locked. So, technically...” Another crooked grin accompanied that comment. A small part of her mind that still hadn’t caught up to the fact that this man was heavily armed and probably dangerous, noted that his smile had probably broken a few hearts in the past. 

_Crap, Sarah, of all times to not lock the damn door._

“Fine, whatever. Still trespassing but okay, you didn’t break in. Your plan was to what? Raid our surgical supply and stitch yourself up? Don’t, um, guys who run into trouble usually have someone who patches them up? A disgraced vet or something?” 

She wasn’t quite sure what possessed her to be sarcastic at this moment in time. Either her gut instincts were telling her that this stranger really was no threat to her or she did actually want to die that night

To her surprise, he let out a gruff laugh, “You watchin’ too many bad cop films, girl. Nah, I don’t have a vet to patch me up. Figured this place was more likely to be closed than a vets, anyways.” 

“Normally it would be, we had an emergency.”

“I can see that.”

Heavy silence filled the room as Kiera tried to decide what to do next. There was only one logical option here. He’d already shown willingness to leave; she should tell him to do so then promptly call the police. She knew next to nothing about this man and what she did know didn't paint a very savoury picture. He was geared up like he was about to go to war and something about him told her that it wouldn’t be the first time. For all she knew, he could be a wanted criminal. It was probably her civic duty to report this.

Except he had shown genuine concern for her injury and he called her ‘Ma’am’. 

_Bad people can have good manners, you moron._

“Come with me.” 

_Bloody moron._


	2. I'm Afraid Of Everything, I'm Not Afraid Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's a long one folks, hopefully that's a good thing!  
> It's just me proof reading my own work and I'm doing at 2.30am so there may be a few mistakes along the way - please tell me if you spot anything so I can repair the damage.  
> As always, let me know what you think.
> 
> Chapter Song: Afraid Of Everything - Milo Greene

Kiera’s abrupt command was met with a blank stare, “What?”

“This room is not exactly sterile right now and it’s gonna take me awhile to clean it up. Makes much more sense to use a different surgery.” 

_This is insane, this is insane, this is insane._

Before he could say anything, she marched past him and started walking down the hallway, trusting that he would follow. 

“Ma’am, ya don’t have to-”

“What’s your name?” Opening the door to the neighbouring surgery, Kiera cut him off before he could tell her she didn’t need to do this; she already knew that. Gesturing for him to sit down in the dental chair, she started to rummage through the drawers for anything that she thought could be of use. 

Somewhat reluctantly, he sat himself sideways on the chair, keeping his feet firmly on the ground. Rubbing the back of his neck, he answered hesitantly, “You can call me, uh, Pete, I guess”

Kiera looked over her shoulder at ‘Pete’ and quirked her eyebrow at him, “You know, ‘Pete, I guess’, my nana always told me that an uncomfortable truth is better than a convenient lie.” 

She was rewarded with a gravelly laugh, “Smart woman, your nana.” He watched her as she continued to gather her supplies, “Better not dig any deeper, darlin’, Pete works just fine.”

“Pete it is then. You’re American, right?”

“New York born and raised.”

Satisfied that she had everything she could think of, she laid it all out neatly on the worksurface before turning back to Pete, “Ah that’s where everything happens, isn’t it? Hole in the sky, aliens, superpeople running about. Don’t get much of that over here. Something happened in London a few years back with that guy with the hammer, you know, the one who says he’s a god, but that’s about it. Wait, you’re not one of those, are you? A superhero type?” 

Kiera rolled her eyes at herself, grateful that she was still facing away from Pete. She knew that she was babbling and that she was talking too much to compensate for the thick knot of nerves that was currently twisting in her gut. She needed to reign it in before she made a complete fool of herself.

“Hell no girl, I ain’t no hero.”

She couldn’t deny the slight pang of disappointment that she felt at that. It would’ve been very convenient to believe that she was helping a secret member of the Avengers rather than just some bloodied guy in a tactical vest. 

Donning a pair of gloves, she soaked a wad of gauze in saline then proceeded to clean the wound on Pete’s arm. Other than the slight tensing of his jaw, he made no indication that it hurt yet she knew it must sting like all hell. 

“Right, I have local anaesthetic here but I’ll be completely honest, I would have no idea where to stick it to do any good. So unless you know what to do, it’s probably best to just use the numbing gel.” Keira sighed apologetically. As bad as the saline must’ve been, stitches with no anaesthetic would be something else. 

“It’s fine,” Pete reassured her, “Rather not have my arm numb anyways.” 

“Of course, numb arms aren’t practical. Especially in your line of work. Which is…?” She trailed off expectantly as she applied the gel, hoping that whatever answer he gave might reassure her at least a little bit. 

“What did I tell ya ‘bout diggin’, eh?” The amusement was still evident in his voice but there was also an edge that made it clear that he wasn’t about to give in to her questioning.

_Well, that’s no comfort at all. I bet he’s in the mob. They definitely have a mob in New York._

Clinging to some sense of self-preservation, Kiera kept that thought to herself. She instead busied herself with preparing for the sutures. 

“Okay, Pete. I’m going to give you a fair warning: I’m a dental nurse not a nurse nurse. I've never stitched up a patient's mouth before, let alone their arm. You may have to give me a little guidance but looking at the position of that cut, I reckon that I’ll be able to get a better angle than you. You ready?”

Taking his curt nod as a cue to begin, Kiera set to work, surprised by how quickly everything came back to her. Technically, she hadn’t told an outright lie; It was true that she’d never placed stitches as a dental nurse. She took a deep breath, refusing to acknowledge that her fingers knew exactly how to angle the needle and where best to pinch the skin together. Instead, she followed Pete’s muttered instructions and pretended that she needed them. She noted, with some admiration, that he didn’t so much as wince as she pushed the needle through his arm again and again. 

Taking advantage of the silence that descended on them as she worked, Kiera properly studied her impromptu patient for the first time, glancing at him between stitches. From where she was sitting, she could only see his face in profile. Underneath the permanent scowl lay a handsome face with a strong jaw and dark eyes. He was tall and broad, that much she had noticed instantly, however, there was a quietness to him, despite his bulk. When he moved, he made no noise whatsoever and when he was still, he was completely still. He reminded her of a coiled snake; always ready to strike within a moment’s notice. Instinctively, she could tell that this made him a deadly predator. Yet these same instincts reassured her that she was not his prey. Logic told her that this man was dangerous but for some reason, she felt completely safe.

_If I die tonight, I have no one to blame but myself._

Kiera’s silent assessment was cut short by Pete turning to her and stating, “You’re good at this.”

“Huh? Oh, um…” She blinked rapidly, desperately thinking of what to say without giving herself away, “Well, I’ve watched countless dentists place countless sutures. Must’ve picked up something along the way.”

He held her stare for a second too long before turning away with a snort of derision.

“Bullshit”

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me girl, I call bullshit. Ain't no way that those are your first ever stitches. You’re sewing me up like a damn field medic. First time I picked up a needle an’ thread, I swear I did more harm than good. And don’t give me no crap about observin’ others, shit like this needs practice. Especially if they’re that god damn neat. ”

She knew she was digging her heels in for no real reason but she didn’t feel like explaining herself to someone who had given her an obviously false name. Fixing him with her most sardonic grin, Kiera retorted, “Firstly, I have a name. Secondly, I prefer Ma’am to girl, thank you very much. Thirdly, I’m very flattered but I can honestly say I that have never done anything like this before.”

Again, she wasn’t technically lying. She had never, ever been in this situation before. 

“Oh that's how it is, is it?” He quipped, raising his eyebrows at her. For emphasis, he held up his hand and counted out the points on his fingers, “You ain’t told me your name, girl suits you better when you’re lyin’ like that and I know you ain’t ever done _exactly_ this before. What I don’t believe is that you’ve never stitched someone up before. What happened to uncomfortable truths an’ all that, eh? Lyin’ by omission is still lyin’, _girl._ ” 

Pissed that he was able to throw her own nana’s words back at her, she held out her spare hand and muttered darkly, “My name is Kiera Thompson and you are?”

He hesitated and for a moment Kiera thought that she’d won this battle of wills. To her chagrin, his expression hardened and he replied resolutely, “Pete.”

Defeated, Kiera let her hand drop and acquiesced, “You’re right, I’ve had some practice. It was a long time ago and honestly, I don’t want to talk about it.”

With that, she re-focused on the task at hand, methodically tying off the suture before carefully cutting the thread. She cleaned up the area with some more saline then sat back to assess her handiwork. Pete was right; she had done a good job. Apparently there are some skills that never leave you. 

Her appraisal was interrupted by a large hand under her chin. Kiera immediately looked up, eyes wide in shock. Up until that point, he hadn’t laid a finger on her and she had no idea what to expect next. 

_Oh god, this is it. You patch him up and he snaps his neck. That’s what you get for trusting strangers, you twit. I swear I-_

“Hey, ‘m sorry for pushin’ Ma’am. I tell ya not to ask questions then I go harassin’ ya. I weren’t lyin’ though, you done real good. I ain’t had stitches this nice since I left the marines. Much better than anythin’ I coulda done. I’m grateful, really.” 

Kiera was taken aback by the raw sincerity in his voice and on his face. That remark of gratitude was enough to settle the internal debate that had been raging inside of her. She still had no idea why he was in such bad shape or what exactly had brought him to her practice but that didn’t matter. He was in need and she’d helped. She’d done the right thing.

It was only a second later that she realised that he’d inadvertently revealed a fact about himself. 

_Ex-military huh? Really should’ve guessed that one._

“Back to Ma’am eh?” She smirked at him as he released her chin. She ignored the strange feeling that suddenly swept over her at the absence of his touch, instead wrapping up his arm in some more gauze to protect the new stitches. She looked him up and down before asking, “Anything else I should take a look at while we’re here?” 

“Nah I’m good, darlin’. Weren't much of a fight. Just got a bit cocky at the end, thought I’d taken them all out but there was one hidin’ behind…” Whatever he was going to say was lost as he suddenly realised that he’d said too much. After a brief pause he clicked his tongue and continued, “Ah who am I kiddin’, you’re a smart girl, you know I aint got this scratch from fallin’ down the stairs.” 

“Definitely not a scratch but, yeah, I figured as much.” Quietly, as if speaking too loudly would change his mind, she asked, “Who you fighting Pete?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he looked her square in the eye and answered, “Bad guys, Kiera, bad guys.”

It was an obvious response and one that she had no reason to believe. 

She believed him completely. 

The sudden intrusion of a car alarm going off caused Kiera to nearly jump out of her skin. For a moment, she had forgotten that the outside world existed. She broke away from Pete’s gaze and started to clean up the surgery. Silently standing up from the chair, he kept his attention on her as she tidied away all the unused items and wiped down all the clinical surfaces. It didn’t take her too long before all she was left with was the needle holders and suture scissors. Taking these instruments with her, she walked out of the room and headed for the first surgery. 

Acutely aware that she was being closely followed, Kiera wondered what would happen now. Pete’s entire reason for breaking into the practice in the first place had been fulfilled and there was no real reason for him to linger there any longer. Yet here he was, dogging her every step.

Kiera felt like crying as she looked at her surgery. The tray of instruments was still strewn across the floor from where she dropped it and the rest of the room wasn’t much better. She had only just started to make a dent in the clean down process when Pete had appeared in the doorway. She didn’t even want to think about what time it would be before she could finally go home. 

“Fuck, I’d forgotten what a mess this place was.” She muttered tiredly under her breath.

“You gotta deal with all this tonight?”

In a movement that felt a lot like deja vu , she whipped around to look at Pete. This time his face was completely blank, calculating even. Not for the first time that night, she was taken aback by the quiet strength that radiated off of him.

“Uh huh. Lucky me, eh?” 

“Well then, Ma’am, tell me what I can do to help.”

It took her a second to register what he was saying. Of all the crazy things that had happened that night, she was certain that this was the most bizarre. The image of this hulking tank of a man wearing her nurse’s scrubs came unbidden to the forefront of her mind. This time, she was unsuccessful in completely stifling her laughter and had to resort to coughing to mask it. 

_Oh if you could read my mind, Mister, you’d fucking kill me right now._

After taking a moment to compose herself, she started to politely decline his offer, “Oh, that’s really sweet of you but it’s-”

“If I hadn’t turned up, wouldya be gone by now?” 

“Quite possibly but-”

“Well then I’m helpin’.”

Kiera couldn’t deny that the help would be welcome, no matter how absurd the source. Just having an extra pair of hands would lighten the load. She swept her gaze over the room one last time before picking up a pair of gloves to throw at him.

“Let's get started then. Hell, if you’re any good we might hire you, god knows we could do with an extra nurse.”

Her poor attempt at humour was met with a small chuckle that was probably more enthusiastic than she deserved. She decided then that she liked his laugh, as gruff as it was. 

They worked in companionable silence, which was only broken by Kiera’s brief instructions. It quickly became obvious that he was an extremely quick learner, proving her estimation to be correct; the whole process took considerably less time than it would’ve without his assistance. 

Once she was satisfied that everything was done, she left Pete alone as she went to the staff cloakroom and changed out of her uniform. She had almost expected him to be gone before she returned but instead, he was waiting for her patiently, leaning casually against a wall. 

“So, um,” she hesitated, not quite sure what came next, “This has been, uh, well, a very strange evening, if I’m being honest with you.”

Pete ran his eyes over her slowly before agreeing, “I don’t doubt that it has, Ma’am. S’pose you can’t wait to get home after all this, huh?”

Truer words had never been spoken. Kiera smiled tiredly, “You can say that again. Thank god that I don’t have to drive, I would definitely fall asleep at the wheel.”

“You don’t drive?”

“No, I do but I only live about 15 minutes walk away. I only ever drive in if it’s pissing it down. Saves me a fortune in fuel.”

She took a slight step backwards. Even though she was exhausted, she was still reluctant to say goodbye; she still had so many unanswered questions after all. 

The space between them grew tense as he failed to respond right away, instead looking at her with an unfathomable expression on his face. Growing uneasy, Kiera shifted her weight from foot to foot and was about to break the silence herself before he finally spoke. 

“Let me walk you home.”

His words were phrased as a question but his tone implied that he wasn’t really asking her permission. She shouldn’t have been relieved by that. She didn’t know this man, the idea of him walking her home should’ve made her instantly nervous. But it didn’t. All she felt was relief that her time with him wasn’t completely over.

Still, it would be suspicious if she agreed without a fight. 

“That’s really not necessary.”

“It’s nearly midnight.”

“And? I’m betting that I know this area better than you do.”

She hoped desperately that he couldn’t tell that she was protesting for appearances sake only. 

“I’m sure ya do but believe me when I say that there are some dangerous people out there.” To demonstrate his point, he gestured broadly to his various injuries, “It’s not safe at this time of night.” 

Feeling brave, Kiera inquired, “But I’m safe with you?” 

“Yes.” The emphasis that he poured into that single word, told Kiera all that she needed to know. A sudden shyness took hold of her, causing her to look down at the floor intently as he continued, “Look Ma’am, I’m not gonna force ya. If you’re not comfortable, I get that. I know what I look like right now but ya have nothin’ to fear from me. I think ya know that, I mean you’ve trusted me this far.”

Kiera slowly raised her head to meet Pete’s intense stare. She desperately tried to ignore the warm feeling that spread across her abdomen at his continued observance. Her reply was all but whispered, “I do. Trust you, I mean. I don’t know why. But I do.”

Relief broke across his expression. Her faith in him evidently meant something to him. 

Unwilling to end the moment but aware that one of them had to, Kiera eventually tore herself away. She locked up the practice and started the short walk towards her flat. Without uttering a word, Pete fell into step beside her.

They walked in silence as Kiera’s mind went a mile a minute. She had so many things that she wanted to ask him but had no idea what he would be willing to talk about. She decided to settle for the safest topic that she could think of.

“So, Mr New York, what brings you to the UK? And why Southampton in particular?”

“I’ve got, uh, business here, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. Kiera wondered if it was a nervous tick of his.

“Business, yeah? Is this a permanent relocation or a temporary thing?”

_Oh, real casual Kiera, real casual._

She could see him trying to figure out how to answer her without giving away too much, “I wouldn’t call it permanent but it ain’t gonna be a quick thing either. Ain't having much luck at the moment.”

Growing tired of his circumspection, Kiera decided to abandon all tact, “No? Tough job being a vigilante these days? Not found a good union yet?” She continued facing forward as she spoke, mildly worried about what his reaction would be. 

He definitely did not disappoint.

Stopping dead in his tracks, he rounded on her with a face of thunder, “What you talkin’ about girl? I ain’t no stinkin’ vigi-”

She cut across him mid sentence, her patience running very thin, “C’mon man, you won’t tell me your real name, fine, but don’t insult my intelligence. You said yourself: I’m a smart girl, I can put two and two together.”

“Yeah and what two an’ two is that?” he snapped at her irritably. 

“Well for starters, you’re dressed like, like, well that.” She waved her hand across the air between them, vaguely referring to the entirety of him. Building up momentum, she continued, “You’ve got more guns strapped to you than I’ve seen in my whole life and a fucking skull painted on your chest. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, despite looking like a goddamn criminal and apparently you’ve been out fighting ‘bad guys’. Oh and you’re from New York and, from what I’ve heard, that city has as many vigilantes on the streets as it has heroes. Though, some people will say they are one and the same.”

He stepped closer to her, baring his teeth to growl, “I told ya girl, I ain’t no hero.”

_I should be terrified right now, why am I not terrified?_

Without breaking eye contact, Kiera countered, “Didn’t say you were. But you’re either a vigilante or you’re something worse.”

He took another step forward, further closing the gap between them until their noses were almost touching, “What would ya do if I said I was worse?”

Kiera wondered if he could hear her heart beating, it certainly seemed loud enough to her. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to give herself a heart attack right there and then.

“Not much I can do is there? I’m unarmed and I’m not a fighter anyways. I’m just hoping that if you were gonna do something, you would’ve already done it.”

_Hi there, my name is Kiera. I’m weak and vulnerable, please shoot me! I won’t fight back!_

_Fucking idiot girl._

“Could call the police when I’m gone.”

She barked out a disbelieving laugh, “And say what? That a strange american man with a fuck load of guns broke into my work and offered to leave as soon as he realised I was there? That instead of doing the sensible thing, I stole from my own practice and put stitches in his arm? Then he helped me tidy up and walked me home? I can imagine how well that would go down.”

His eyes softened incrementally as she finished her rant. “Ya could say that I held you at gunpoint,” he offered. 

“I could. But I won’t”

All the anger melted from his expression with that simple statement. Her words hung in the air as they continued to stare at each other, both of them breathing heavily. For the second time that night, Kiera knew she had to be the one to break away or they would be stood there for hours.

She stepped to the side and continued to walk, changing the subject completely, “On another note, unless you wanna get arrested on sight, you might want to try to be a bit more subtle with the weaponry going forward. We’re a fair bit more strict about guns over here. Maybe wear a big coat?”

He started to walk alongside her again, laughing slightly at her suggestion, “Big coat, yeah? I can do that.” 

“Good.”

Quiet descended on them again but it wasn’t as comfortable as before. Some of the tension had been relieved but it wasn’t completely gone. Feeling slightly guilty for provoking him, Kiera resolved to lighten the mood again.

“I do have one final question for you Pete, if you don’t mind me asking?” She made sure to make her voice as timid as possible, as if she was working up to ask something really personal.

“Bloody hell…” he muttered in exasperation, running a hand over his face. Seeing the hopefulness on her face, he acquiesced reluctantly. “Oh, go on then, girl. Knock yerself out.”

She exhaled dramatically, making sure to look as nervous as she possibly could. Turning to him with wide eyes, she pleaded, “Was my singing really that bad?”

A second passed where he gave no reaction whatsoever and she began to wonder if her humour was wasted on him. Then all of a sudden, a deep bellow of laughter burst from him. The small, hoarse laughs that she’d heard up until that point were nothing compared to this. His face appeared a decade younger as he turned to her with a wide grin. Foreign feelings stirred in her gut as his laughter reverberated through her whole body.

_Oh fuck, I’m in trouble now._

“Oh you’re somethin’ else you are. God damn little actress, really had me going.” He shook his head, smirking at her before answering her plea, “Yeah, ya really were that bad. I’ve ‘eard pissin’ drunks carry a tune better than that.”

“Ouch, you’re mean,” Kiera winced. She didn’t really mind though, she had many talents but she knew that singing was not one of them.

Looking around her, Kiera realised that they had pretty much reached her flat. She slowed down as they approached her entryway. 

“This is me.” She gestured to the building, stopping in front of Pete. She was sure that she was imagining the slight disappointment that briefly flashed across his face.

“That’s good, ‘bout time ya got some sleep.”

“Amen to that.” She cleared her throat, “Well I guess this is it then.”

“Yeah, guess it is.”

“Um, well then, bye Pete. It was, uh, interesting meeting you.” Cringing at her poor choice of parting words, Kiera turned around and started to search her pockets for her keys.

A hand reaching out to grab her wrist brought her search to an abrupt stop, “Wait, Kiera-”

“Yeah?”

“Why did ya help me tonight? Not that I’m not grateful, I really am but… why?”

She had been hoping to avoid that question. She knew the answer but she wasn’t too willing to admit it.

“Well, there’s a reason that I do what I do. Most people think that us in dentistry are sadists or something but for most of us it’s the complete opposite. I can’t stand seeing people in pain. It’s why I was there late tonight in the first place.” She could’ve left it at that, she’d given him a perfectly reasonable explanation. Something, however, compelled her to be completely open, no matter how embarrassing. She pushed on, “But honestly? The main reason I helped you is because you were polite. You called me ma’am. That counts for a lot in my book.”

Pete didn’t laugh at her ridiculousness, instead he smiled at her slightly, “The first reason is better than the second.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The hand that was still grasping her wrist slid down to hand, grasping it tightly. His voice rough with sincerity, he murmured, “Thank you, Kiera.” Picking up her other hand with his, he turned it over gently, tracing his thumb over her impromptu bandage. “I hope your hand is okay and everythins’ all clear.” 

She’d completely forgotten about her cut. She’d have to remember to send her manager a text asking to be referred for bloodwork. That was going to be fun to explain. 

“You’re welcome Pete and I’m sure it will be, just an extra precaution really.”

He squeezed her hands one last time before letting go. 

“Good night, Kiera.”

With that, he started to walk backwards away from her.

“What’s your name?” She called out to him, asking for the third time that night, more as a joke than anything else at this point.

The only reply she received was a crooked grin as he faded into the shadows.

After standing on the porch for a minute or two, watching the space where he’d been, Kiera let herself into her building and started up the stairs to her flat. Once she was in, she sent a brief text to her manager before chucking her phone and everything else onto the sofa. She would deal with that in the morning; all she wanted to do right now was collapse onto her bed.

Except, despite the deep tiredness in her limbs, her mind was more awake than it had ever been. She found herself standing in front of her small hallway cupboard. It was a cupboard that she often stared at but had not opened once since she moved into her place. She hadn’t so much as touched the contents in years except to move it from one flat to another. 

Something in her had snapped that night and she couldn’t bear to walk past the cupboard this time. Instead, she turned the handle to reveal what she knew lived inside. Neatly packed and stored in boxes, all of her old tattooing kit sat waiting for her. Remnants of an old life where ink had been her lifeblood. Emotion threatened to choke her as she checked over the needles, making sure that time and disuse hadn’t damaged them at all.

Clearing off her dining table, she set everything down and started to set everything up, loading in the ink. Laying out some sheets of practice skin, she flexed her fingers then set to work for the first time in five years. 

Frank watched the light turn on in what had to be Kiera’s flat. His suspicion was confirmed when she sat down at the table, directly in front of the window.

He knew that he should walk away and forget about the ballsy British girl with steady hands. But he couldn’t. 

He also knew that he shouldn’t be staring up into her flat like a depraved man. But he didn’t move. 

Instead he watched her with unbridled curiosity as she set up the tattoo machine. 

_Kiera Thompson, who are you?_


	3. I Drew the Line Then Crossed It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I know that I said the previous chapter was long but I now realise that was a lie! I hate that it's taken me so long to finish this one but I hope that you think it was worth the wait.
> 
> I am beta-less so please let me know if there's anything I need to edit. 
> 
> Chapter song: New Religion - Noah Gunderson

Kiera felt herself drift into the familiar fugue state where her focus narrowed and all she could see was the canvas in front of her. It was an itch that she could only scratch by putting pen to paper, ink to skin. For years, she had suppressed that urge and though it never fully went away, she had become quite adept at ignoring it.

Until now.

Every barrier that she’d carefully built had been broken down in a single night and the impulse was suddenly too great for her to disregard any longer.

It had taken five years for Kiera to pick up her tattoo pen again and it took less than five minutes for it to feel like no time at all. Just like with Pete’s stitches, her fingers took over. She wasn’t creating any masterpieces but the skill that she had once possessed was still evident. More importantly, the pure joy that she felt, even though the skin was synesthetic, had not changed at all.

She had tried to lie to herself and pretend that she didn’t miss it but she couldn’t deny that it felt like coming home.

The dawn had already started to break when Kiera finally dragged herself to bed. She quickly fell into a soundless sleep, only stirring around midday when she was woken by her stomach. As she made her way to the kitchen, she was stopped dead in her tracks by the scene that greeted her.

At some point in the night, she had exhausted her entire stock of practice skin and had to resort to sketching the designs that flooded her head. Quickly filling her sketchbooks, she had started to get creative. Old menus, receipts and even the back of an electricity bill had all fallen victim. The result of this was an eclectic tapestry of mismatched skin and paper that covered almost every available surface of her flat.

She was lucky that fatigue had taken over when it did; a little while longer and she would’ve been drawing on the walls.

Despite the variety of mediums that she had burned through, there was one common denominator. Though every design was unique, they all depicted the same core image.  
With the daylight beaming directly in past the curtains that she had forgotten to draw, the overall effect was fairly startling.

Ironically, a sea of skulls hadn’t seemed so unsettling in the middle of the night.

_Fucking hell. I need to get my head checked. Dexter’s kill room is less worrying than this._

There was no point in lying to herself about where her inspiration had come from; she knew for a fact that skulls had never really been her thing before. Yet here she was, standing face to face with hundreds of sketches that ranged from abstract to disturbingly realistic.

An irrational panic seized Kiera, causing her to frantically gather up all the pages as if they revealed some dark secret that she needed to hide from everyone, herself included. If Pete could see her now, he would probably think of her as some crazed obsessive. Unfortunately, if she was completely honest with herself, that wasn’t too far off.

The events of the previous evening were playing on a loop in her head. The whole thing was so surreal that if it wasn’t for the cut on her palm she could easily believe that she had dreamt it all.

She could still hear the sound of his rough laughter and feel the intensity of his gaze. She had never met someone that had demanded her unwavering attention in the way that he had. For a variety of reasons, some good and some bad, she was captivated by him.

It was driving her crazy that she would probably never see him again.

She shook her head and tried to push all thoughts of Pete from her mind. It wouldn’t be healthy to continue to obsess over a stranger. Especially one that, for all she knew, could be a mass murderer.

Setting her collection of sketches down onto the table, Kiera began to look over skulls that she had inked into her practice skin. She could clearly see the quality improve as she had regained her confidence with the machine.

After a moment, reality sank in: she had tattooed. After all those years, she had finally tattooed again.

She didn’t realise that she was crying until a choked sob broke past her lips.

There was a reason that she had locked away this part of her life for so long. It had been impossible for her to separate her art from the pain of her past. She had been unable to pick up the tattoo pen without being overtaken by memories of the man who had taught her how to use it. Yet, she had spent hours inking without once thinking about anything other than Pete.

It almost felt like a betrayal.

* * *

Frank was pissed.

He had spent days tracking this particular pusher but now that he had him in his sights, he just couldn’t focus his thoughts.

If there was one thing that he could usually take pride in, it was his ability to clear his head and concentrate on whatever war he was fighting that day. Without that skill, he would’ve been killed ten times over. Yet here he was, with a clear target in front of him and a head full of distractions.

No matter how many times he banished her from his mind, Kiera Thompson kept working her way to the forefront of his brain.

Ever since his family had been massacred, Frank had been alone. Sure, he’d had the occasional ally but more often than not, those relationships had been transactional. He had thought that selfless acts of kindness belonged in fairy tales.

Yet, here was this complete stranger who went out of her way to get him out of trouble when she had nothing to gain and no good reason to help him.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About her.

Everything about her was contradictory. Her actions were carefully calculated and measured but she had a sharp, impulsive tongue. She sang like a care-free child but her words were laced with a bitter cynicism. She said she wasn’t a fighter but she didn’t once flinch away from him.

She knew to be afraid of him yet she had helped him anyway.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

His target coughed obnoxiously and snapped him back to reality. He re-focused the scope of his rifle just in time to see the dealer walk around the corner and out of range.

“Fuck” he muttered under his breath, packing up his gear as he kicked himself for wasting a perfect shot.

He knew that he should try and tail the man or failing that, return to his safe house and plan his next move. Instead, he found himself walking on autopilot, retracing his steps back to Kiera’s flat. Or more precisely, the pavement across from her flat..

_I need to get a goddamn grip. A goddamn fucking grip._

* * *

Kiera barely noticed the week pass by. Work was busier than usual and she seemed to spend every day chasing her tail. Despite the increased workload, she still managed to stay up late with her tattoo machine every night, making up for five years of lost time. All of her spare income was being spent on synthetic skin and ink but it was worth it.

For the first time in a long time, Kiera felt like herself.

Every now and again, a particular design or pattern would cause a long buried memory to resurface. She would suddenly be nineteen again, her hands shaking as she tried to ink a flash tattoo into an orange. All those years later and she could still hear Dan’s soft words of encouragement as clearly as if he was standing right beside her.

Thinking about him hurt more than she had anticipated; it was like losing him all over again. Surprisingly, however, it was better than being numb. After five years of repressed feelings, she was finally allowing herself to feel. She hadn’t realised the extent to which she had been existing and not really living.

The reason for her change of heart was never too far from her thoughts no matter how hard tried to banish him. Determined to not fall down a dangerous rabbit hole, she had sworn herself off inking skulls.

Unfortunately, her dreams had made no such promise. Every night she woke up in a cold sweat, not knowing if it was fear or something else that made her heart race. All she knew was that every dream featured the same person again and again.

So much for her famed self control.

Between her disturbed sleep and emotional turmoil, Kiera was functioning at a severely reduced capacity. She knew that it was bound to affect her performance at work but she couldn’t help herself.

Hers was not a good job to be distracted at and while she generally managed to pull herself together and focus, there were times that she found herself drifting. Almost a whole week later and she was still falling victim to her obsession. To outside observers, she was keeping herself busy, scrubbing instruments in the decontamination room. In reality, she was fantasising about calloused hands and dark eyes.

She hadn’t realised just how engrossed she was in her thoughts until a stern voice broke her reverie causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.

“Kiera Adanna Thompson, I am disappointed in you.”

After taking a moment to catch her breath and compose herself, Kiera spun around to glare at her accuser.

At five foot tall, Laura Chapple was one of the most intimidating people Kiera had ever met. On a good day, she was the life of the party and on a bad day, she was terrifying. She was also Kiera’s closest and dearest friend.

“Jesus Christ, Laur, sneak up on me why don’t you?”

Laura responded by crossing her arms and commanding, “Don’t try and change the subject. Plus if anyone is sneaky, it’s you, you sneak.”

“Okay now you’ve really lost me,” Kiera stated incredulously.

Her exuberance finally getting the better of her, Laura exclaimed, “You’re seeing someone and you didn’t tell me!”

For a moment, all Kiera could do was stare at her friend in disbelief. Then she moment passed and a burst of startled laughter exploded from her.

_Oh for crying out loud-_

“Ah, I see. You’ve been having those vivid dreams again, haven’t you? Just cause it happened in your sleep Laur, does not mean that it happened in real life. I am as single as I’ve ever been, I promise.”

“Oh very funny,” Laura rolled her eyes sarcastically, “I’ll have you know that I switched my meds and now I’m sleeping like a baby. Can’t say the same for you though, sweetheart. You look like you’ve been up all night. Who’s keeping you up, Kiera?”

Not many people knew Keira as well as Laura did. They’d grown up together in Bristol and had been inseparable until Laura moved cities for university. Despite falling out of touch for a while, it was Laura that she had called when she found herself with no home and nowhere to go. It was a four hour round trip from Southampton to Bristol but Laura had left that night. She’d secured Kiera a job as a trainee at the practice she worked at and let her sleep in her spare room for six months.

Kiera owed her more than she could ever repay.

That didn’t mean that she appreciated her current curiosity.

In her most unenthused voice, Kiera replied, “I’ve just been dealing with a bit of insomnia. It’s nothing that exciting.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been distracted all week and not bad distracted either. Just now you were scrubbing that excavator with the dopiest smile on your face. No one is that happy to be cleaning instruments.”

Unable to think up a good enough excuse, she retorted, “Well maybe I am.”

“Cut the crap, Kiera. You’ve got ink stains all over you. You’re tattooing again, right?”

_Fuck. There goes that secret._

“And?” she deadpanned, trying hard to keep her expression neutral.

“And? And?! That’s all you have?” Laura all but shrieked, “We both know that something major must’ve changed for you to pick up the gun-”

“Don’t call it that, it’s not a gun,” interrupted Kiera, unable to fight her knee jerk reaction.

“Alright, touchy. Something big must’ve happened for you to pick up the tattoo thingy. You’re obviously staying up late, you’re daydreaming when you're here and you’re tattooing. I’m just putting two and two together, hun.”

For a wild moment, Kiera considered telling her friend everything. She didn’t enjoy lying and the thought of having someone to talk to was definitely tempting. However, she knew that Laura would have questions that she didn’t want to answer so instead she deflected.

“I’m impressed by your detective work but you’re way off base. Yes, I’ve started to tattoo again and that’s why I’m tired and distracted. But there is no guy involved. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you before but you know why-” she paused, knowing that she was about to employ a dirty but necessary tactic, “why, I, uh, stopped and how, uh, difficult it… shit… how pain… oh bloody hell. It’s just hard to talk about, Laur.”

Compassion flared across Laura’s face before being replaced by annoyance almost immediately.

Placing an authoritative hand on her hip, she snapped, “Don’t you try to guilt me, Thompson. I was there, I know just how hard it all was. I know exactly why you turned away from that part of your life. And that’s why I know that tattooing is a big ass deal! Even if there is no guy, it still means that something has happened. You’re my best mate, Kiera, I’m only asking because I care.”

If she hadn’t felt bad before, Kiera definitely did now. However, there was nothing that she could do other than double down.

She shrugged before stating, “I don’t know what to tell you, Laur, you’re wrong.”

A wide grin broke across Laura’s face as she asked mockingly, “Am I?”

She reached into the pocket of her scrubs and produced a small package which she waved in front of Kiera.

“What is that?”

Laura answered smugly, “A delivery. Addressed to you. In a man’s handwriting.”

Quickly stripping off her gloves, Kiera reached for the padded envelope only for Laura to snatch it back.

“Give that here.”

Irritation fuelling her movements, Kiera launched forward and finally managed to grab hold of the envelope. If she’d taken a moment to assess the situation, she would’ve probably waited until Laura’s prying eyes were elsewhere. Her curiosity, however, got the better of her and she wasted no time in ripping the packaging open.

When she saw what was inside, she was torn between wanting to laugh her head off and needing to run and hide. The end result was complete immobilisation as she stared at the contents of the parcel.

“A CD? Jesus, I haven’t seen one of those for years. Who’s sending you a bloody CD Kiera? Do you even have anything to play that on?”

Kiera couldn’t think of any good way to explain why she had been sent the album. Not when she didn’t really know herself.

_What the hell Pete?_

When she didn’t get an immediate reply, Laura started to bounce on the balls of her feet in anticipation, “Well, c’mon then, out with it! Who’s it from? Is there a note?!”

“Um, no note. I have no idea who it’s from,” Kiera lied.

Laura scoffed, “Oh yeah, likely story.”

“You know what?” Kiera racked her brains for a plausible explanation that would satisfy her friend but fend off further questions. A sudden flash of inspiration struck her as started to backtrack, “It’s probably a thank you from that emergency patient that I saw with Sarah last week. Actually, thinking about it now, I think I did mention liking Springsteen. Yeah, that must be it. That’s really sweet of him.”

Disappointment took over Laura’s expression as she listened to Kiera. Her reasoning was believable enough but it was nowhere near as exciting as Laura had wanted it to be.

“Are you sure? Is there anything insi-”

Unwilling to let her finish that thought, Kiera interjected, “I think you need a hobby, Laur. This is nowhere near as fascinating as you think it is. Do I need to call up your wife and tell her that you need to get out more?”

The words left her mouth before she realised how cruel they sounded. By the time she registered what she had said, the damage was already done.

“Ouch, Kiera, ouch,” Laura winced, real hurt showing on her face, “Fine, have it your way. I’ll leave you with your secrets and your old ass music. You know where to find me when you wanna actually talk.”

With that, Laura flicked her blonde ponytail over her shoulder and stormed away, leaving Kiera to feel like shit.

_Well done, Kiera, well fucking done._

When she was certain that she was completely alone, Kiera hastily opened up the CD. She had immediately noticed that the case was barely shut and that there was no plastic wrap surrounding it. Like Laura, she had suspected that there was something inside

She was not disappointed.

A stack of fifty pound notes fell out alongside a scrawled note. A brief count told Kiera that she was currently holding five hundred pounds.

Kiera could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she nearly tore the note in two in her rush to read it. What she found did nothing to calm the cascade of emotions that were crashing down on her.

“For singing lessons - P”

For a moment, she stood perfectly still as her mind frantically processed the scruffy handwriting. Then, without warning, she doubled over in hysterical laughter.

_That bloody bastard._

Struggling to breathe, Kiera wiped away the tears from her eyes and tried to compose herself before anyone noticed.

_If I ever see him again, I’m gonna kick him._

* * *

_You’re an embarrassment, Frank._

Anger pumped hot and heavy through Frank’s veins as he kicked over a crate in frustration. A bag of off white powder split open, its contents spilling out onto the floor to mingle with the already coagulating blood that pooled there.

Frank stared at the unsettling combination as he struggled to control his flaring temper.

Standing in the middle of a busted warehouse, surrounded by bodies, he would usually feel the satisfaction of a completed operation.

Instead, he was one step away from putting his fist through the nearest wall.

It should’ve been a textbook attack. The men here were sloppy and lazy; they were no match for him even on a bad day. He should’ve been able to clear the building in under five minutes without breaking a sweat.

He shouldn’t have a bullet in his arm and the knowledge that one of the bastards got away.

_I ain’t no got no fucking excuse, no fucking excuse_

* * *

“Any exciting Friday night plans?”

Kiera stared blankly at the young nurse who was talking to her as they changed out of their scrubs. It took a moment too long for her to come back to reality and actually register that she was being spoken to. After Laura’s ambush earlier in the day, she had been completely unable to focus. She was desperate to get home and process the ‘gift’ that was currently burning a hole in her work bag.

Knowing that she had taken too long to reply, she smiled apologetically, “Sorry, I was on a different planet, what did you say?”

Charlotte chuckled and repeated her question, adding, “Must be something good waiting for you. I’ve never seen you change so fast, your top is inside out and backwards!”

A quick scan confirmed that she was in fact wearing her t-shirt completely incorrectly. Shaking her head at herself, Kiera righted her top and bluffed, “Just been a long week, Char. Pizza and shit TV are calling me.”

“Fair enough, I’d leave here naked if it got me closer to pizza.”

Kiera snorted and replied that she’d love to see her manager’s reaction to such an act. After wishing Charlotte a good weekend, she collected her belongings and made a beeline for the exit.

As she stepped out into the downpour, Kiera thanked her foresight for checking the forecast and driving in, despite the morning’s sunshine.

Across the car park, Laura caught her eye as she opened her car door, calling out, “Have fun shagging to Springsteen, Kier!”

Kiera responded with a middle finger and a roll of her eyes before carrying on to her car. Despite the insinuation, she was grateful that Laura had apparently forgiven her enough to tease her.

“I haveta admit, that was not my intention.”

The all too familiar voice caused her head to snap up and her keys to slip out of her hands, landing directly in a puddle at her feet.

For a moment, Kiera thought that her lack of sleep had finally caught up with her, causing her to have a full blown hallucination. However, after blinking frantically at the figure standing under the trees that lined the car park, nothing changed. The very person that she had been obsessing about for a week was currently staring right back at her and smirking unrepentantly.

“Fuck Pete, what is it with you and scaring the crap out of me?!” Kiera yelled, the shock preventing her from moderating her volume.

“Seems like I arrived just in time, darlin’. Gonna haveta take back that CD if it’s gonna be ‘shagged’ to.” Pete stepped towards her slightly, running his hand through his wet hair as he chastised, “That’s just disrespectful.”

When Kiera had promised to herself that she would kick him the next time she saw him, she had forgotten just how broad and intimidating he was.

_Somebody shoot me, please._

“You-! I’m not-! Oh God,” Kiera stammered, flustered beyond belief. She breathed deeply and tried to regain her composure before snapping, “no one’s shagging anyone. That girl over there is a lunatic who’s convinced that I’m having a secret affair.”

Pete’s grin widened further at her obvious discomfort.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

Momentarily distracted by the way the raindrops clung to his eyelashes, Kiera almost answered on autopilot before catching herself. Explaining Laura’s theories would be opening a can of worms that she would rather remain closed.

Instead she ignored his question entirely, “Bugger that, why are you here Pete? And how did you know which car was mine? Actually, what the fuck is up with the arsey note and bloody money?!”

“That’s easy,” drawled Pete, taking another step towards her, “just doin’ a public service, tryin’ to sort out your banshee wail. An’ I didn’t know it was your car. Figured you wouldn’t be walkin’ in this,'' he gestured at the rain, “and waited for ya to show up. Just lucky tha’ I was on the right side of the parkin’ lot.”

Kiera was completely unconvinced by both answers but before she could call him out on it, she realised that he had dodged the most pressing issue.

“Unless you’re just here to further insult my singing skills, you didn’t answer my first question.”

“What skills?”

Unwilling to let him derail the conversation any further, Kiera simply crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at him.

The smile faded from his face as he dropped his gaze, buckling under her scrutiny. He shuffled his feet and muttered almost inaudibly, “I, uh, might’ve been shot.”

Pete indicated to his left arm; the exact same arm that she had sewn up the previous week.

“You. Might’ve. Been. Shot.” Kiera repeated, slowly sounding out each syllable as if that would help her to understand.

Registering the disbelief on her face, he started to reassure her, “It’s nothing. I just need to get the bullet out-”

“The bullet is still in there?!” Kiera cut him off mid-sentence, “What the fuck are you doing here, you need a hosp-”

Pete held up a hand to try and placate her.

“Hey, hey, it’s not in deep and it ain’t hit anythin’ important. Believe me, I’ve been shot before and this is nothin’. I wouldn’t be botherin’ ya but I don’t have the right tools and it felt wrong to break in after, ya know...” he trailed off, not needing to explain any further.

He shook his head and took a deep breath as he took yet another step closer to her. Kiera could barely process what he was saying with how close to her he now was. Pete’s gaze pierced straight through her as he continued, sincerity etched into every word.

“I just need somethin’ to yank it out and stitch it back up. I hate askin’ but I promise I’ll clear up, no-one will know that I was here and I-.”

“No.”

The word left Kiera’s mouth before she even made a conscious decision to speak. She definitely hadn’t intended to be so blunt but she had suddenly become very aware of how long they had been standing outside in the rain whilst Pete had a bullet in his arm.

Pete flinched as if he had been physically struck, “Oh, of course, sorry, I, uh-” he muttered, taking a tentative step backwards.

Releasing how her refusal must’ve sounded, Kiera quickly elaborated, “You can’t go in there; reception won’t be gone for another hour and there’s no way I can sneak you in without someone noticing.”

Running her eyes across the man in front of her, Kiera evaluated her options. Once again, she found herself at a crossroads; except this time, she knew almost instantly what she was going to do. From the moment that she’d seen him standing under the trees, she hadn’t really had any other choice.

She was already too far gone.

She knelt down to pick up her keys before tossing them to Pete. Despite his obvious surprise, he caught them easily.

“Get in the car, I’ll be back in a sec,” she commanded, the tone of her voice leaving no room for argument.

That didn’t stop Pete from immediately trying to convince her otherwise.

“Shit, Kiera,” regret shot across his face as if he was just realising the position that he had put her in, “I didn’t mean for you, I don’t wanna-”

“Just get in the car, Pete. I’m not in the mood to argue in the rain.”

Kiera turned around and started marching back to the practice before he had the chance to say anything else.

Having released herself from the magnetic trap of his eyes, she started to doubt the existence of her common sense.

_Don’t talk to strangers, they say. No-one ever mentioned handing over your car keys. Is he even a stranger? Is someone a stranger if they’re all you’ve thought about for-_

She caught herself before she could continue that thought and instead tried to work out a plan of action in case anyone noticed her returning to work. She made sure that her phone was hidden in her jacket pocket so she could claim that she’d left it behind if anyone questioned her.

With a singular focus, Kiera raided her surgery for anything that she could potentially need, filling her bag as quickly as possible. She was about to leave when a sudden idea made her turn back and grab a pair of extraction forceps.

Forcing herself to not run and attract any unwanted attention, Kiera closed the practice door behind for the second time in the last ten minutes.

A small amount of relief washed over her as she walked back towards her car. She had been almost certain that Pete wouldn’t drive off but giving her keys to him had been a risky move.

She settled down in the driver’s seat and made a concerted effort to not look over at the passenger side as she fastened her seatbelt. It wasn’t until she was already pulling out of the car park that Pete spoke up.

“You sure about this?”

Kiera took her eyes off the road for long enough to look over at Pete and take in how out of place he looked in her tiny car. She wondered absently if he’d struggled to fit his broad-ass shoulders through the door.

Reluctantly, she tore her eyes from his jawline before she veered straight off the road.

“As long as you don’t bleed on my car then I’m sure,” she quipped.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his mouth curl into a slight smile.  
“I’ll try my best.”

The remainder of the journey passed in silence. Before Kiera had the chance to really doubt the sanity of her actions, she was already pulling up outside her flat.

Wordlessly, Pete followed her up the stairs and waited patiently as she fumbled with the lock on her door.

The moment that she stepped into her flat, she realised that she had in no way prepared the place for visitors. There were ink bottles, needles and sheets of practice skin haphazardly strewn across every surface. Her machine still sat proudly on the dining table, her latest sketches spilling off the edges to sit on the surrounding chairs and floor space.

Kiera thanked small mercies that her stack of skulls were hidden away in the cupboard.

Embarrassment creeping up her neck to flood her cheeks, she turned to Pete to gauge his reaction to her catastrophe of a living space.

He offered no comment apart from a raised eyebrow and an expectant expression.

_Brilliant, he wants an explanation. Of course he does. What other dental nurse lives like this?_

“Probably best that we set up in the bathroom, it’s not, uh, too sanitary out here.”

Kiera knew that she had completely avoided the obvious elephant in the room and braced herself for the questions that she would ask if the roles were reversed.

Those questions never came. Instead, Pete simply stepped across the threshold and inclined his head towards her, “After you, Ma’am.”

Taken aback but grateful, she quickly led him across her flat and into her small but functional bathroom. She gestured for him to settle himself on the edge of the bath as she placed a clean towel on the floor and set out everything that she had scavenged from work.

Once she was satisfied with her makeshift workspace, Kiera stood up and quickly appraised the man in front of her. As ridiculous as he had looked in her car, he looked even more out of place perched precariously on the lip of her bathtub.

The look that he flashed her when he noticed that she was staring, was uncharacteristically open and vulnerable. It was then that she realised that he probably felt extremely uncomfortable. A man like him was bound to be used to a certain amount of control and being in a stranger’s bathroom, injured and at her mercy, was not going to be his ideal situation.

Determined to make him feel more at ease, Kiera playfully flicked the collar of his utility jacket and teased, “Whilst I appreciate you listening to my advice and covering up your arsenal with a coat, it’s kinda at cross purposes with what I need to do here.”

He glared at her ruefully as he carefully shrugged off the offending item, “I already had this lying around. I didn’t go out ‘t buy a new coat just ‘cause ya said so,” he muttered, the amusement in his eyes undercutting his feigned outrage.

“Sure you didn’t,” she drawled, making sure to convey her incredulity with every elongated vowel.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t escape reality for too long. Kiera felt all of the humour drain from her face as she finally laid her eyes on the bloodied bullet hole in his shirt.

_What am I doing? That’s a fucking gun shot wound! There’s no way that I don’t make things worse._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

She had never felt so out of her depth.

Making a conscious effort to compose herself, she took a deep breath and silently talked herself through her next steps. She needed to get the area clean, remove the bullet then stitch it up. If only it was as simple as it sounded. She would have to deal with each step as she came to it or she was going to quickly panic herself into a frenzy.

“Right, first things first,” she announced, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt, “I need better access.”

Gesturing at the mess of fabric that currently surrounded the wound, she moved forward slightly, intending the rip off his shirt sleeve at the shoulder. She was brought up short, however, as Pete started to unclip his tactical vest.

Once she realised that he meant to remove his top entirely, Kiera turned around and busied herself with thoroughly washing her hands, pointedly ignoring the heat that spread across her cheeks.

_It’s just a topless guy, Kiera, you’ve seen plenty of those before. Nothing to get yourself worked up over._

When she finally worked up the nerve to turn back around, Kiera registered just how inaccurate she had been.

She’d never seen a topless guy quite like Pete.

Swallowing her instinctive gasp at the sight before her, she struggled to school her features into a collected mask. She couldn’t lie to herself and pretend that she wasn’t affected by his broad chest and well-defined stomach muscles but she could at least keep it to herself.

Focusing on his left arm was just what Kiera needed to send her crashing back to earth. Thankfully, the wound appeared to be relatively clean cut but it was still a considerably sobering sight.

Before she could stop herself, she let out a low whistle and breathed, “Jesus Pete…”

She drew closer before continuing, “Does it hurt?” At his look of disbelief, she quickly backtracked, “I mean it obviously hurts but is it… bad?”

“Could be better, could be worse.” Pete shrugged noncommittally. Kiera suspected that he would’ve given a similar answer even if he was on his deathbed.

Aware that she couldn’t afford to stall any further, Kiera soaked a wad of gauze in saline and began to clean up the wound to the best of her ability. She was momentarily distracted by the contrast of her darker skin against his. She quickly stopped herself from imagining what they would look like pressed closer together.

_You’re wiping up dried blood and that’s what you’re thinking of? Get. A. Grip._

As she worked, she stole a glance at her patient only to find him studying her intently. She sighed deeply, reluctant to continue on the next, and unequivocally worst, step.

“I really wish I could numb this up for you. I don’t want to hurt you, Pete.”

“I can take it, Kiera, s’okay.”

“Still…”

A sudden stroke of inspiration hit Kiera, causing her to bolt out of the bathroom and run straight for her kitchen cabinets.

She returned to a baffled looking Pete, brandishing a bottle of Captain Morgan like a prized trophy.

“It’s not a perfect solution but it should take the edge off at least.”

He took the bottle off her and gingerly rotated it in his hands before raising a questioning eyebrow at her, “Rum?”

“Yep. It’s not a particularly fancy brand but it should do the job for this. I normally have some nicer stuff but I’m all out at the moment. This will have to do,” she stated apologetically.

He responded by unscrewing the bottle and taking a generous swig. At Kiera’s encouragement, he took several more gulps before setting it down at his feet.

Grimacing as the alcohol made its way down, Pete wiped his mouth and grumbled, “Thought only pirates drank this shit straight.”

Kiera snorted gracelessly.

“I never drink that neat, it’s a cheap ass rum that’s meant to be a mixer. You should try something decent; you’ll never go back to whiskey or whatever it is you drink.”

Despite her vehement speech, he looked wholly unconvinced.

“I’ll have’ta take your word for that.”

They sat in silence as Kiera waited for the alcohol to take effect. She wondered, not for the first time, what was going through Pete’s mind. If he had felt out of control before, she couldn’t imagine how he felt shirtless and down a good amount of rum.

Yet again, there was no doubt that even in his weakened state, he could still take her.

Easily.

Once she felt that enough time had passed, Kiera knelt down in front of him and picked up the extraction forceps that she had chosen at the last minute. Registering Pete’s instant panic, she reassured him that she had no intention of going anywhere near his teeth.

She cautiously inserted the forceps into the wound and tried to grab onto the bullet. It took a few attempts to get a good enough hold but eventually, she managed to pull it out without causing any further tissue damage.

Instructing Pete to hold a piece of gauze to the now freshly open wound, she dropped the slug into the sink with a resounding clatter. As she watched it ricochet from one side of the basin to the other, the reality of what she had just done caught up with her.

A sudden wave of nausea crashed over her, causing her to grip onto the sides of the sink to steady herself.

_Fuck, it’s been five years. I should be fine. I should be fine._

“You alright, Ma’am?” Pete asked from behind her, concern evident in his voice.

Kiera shook her head at her reflection.

“I- I- I should be. I’m not squeamish or anything. I’d be pretty shit at my job if I was. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, this is ridiculous.”

“You ever seen a gunshot before?”

An unwelcome barrage of images flashed through Kiera’s mind: Blood everywhere, raised voices, broken promises.

A hand that used to be a hand reduced to a gaping hole with fingers attached.

“Just once,” she all but whispered.

Still staring at her reflection, she continued, “It wasn’t like this. It was through and through but not... not cleanly. It was… awful. Everything about that night was awful.”

Pete hesitated before warily reaching out to rest his free hand on her arm before asking, “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

The unexpected sincerity and compassion that Kiera felt coming from him was enough to shake her out of her trance like state.

“Thanks but I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m feeling steadier now anyways.” She knelt back down and started to prepare the sutures. “I should get that stitched up before you lose any more blood.”

“Kiera…”

She cut him off before he could press the issue any further, embarrassed by the desperation in her voice, “Please, Pete. Anything else. I’ll talk about literally anything else.”

Before he could reply, she started to thread the needle through the broken skin on his arm. She felt guilty for not warning him but it was the best way she could think of to distract him from her episode of obvious distress.

Kiera was grateful for the amount of concentration needed to create even and neat stitches. There was no room for painful recollections when she had to focus on the task at hand.

After a moment of heavy silence, Pete broke the tension by enquiring, “You tattoo?”

She should have known that she’d gotten off too lightly when he didn’t ask any questions about the state of her flat.

“Used to. Before I moved to Southampton, before I started nursing.”

“Why’d ya stop?”

“Just did, I guess.”

“What happened to ‘literally anything else’?”

Kiera exhaled dramatically in frustration, “Fine, fine. I’ll answer your questions. But for every one you ask, I get to ask one as well. If you don’t answer then I won’t.”

She looked up from her work to see Pete staring at her in contemplation. Slowly and deliberately, he nodded in acquiescence.

“Who shot you?”

The question flew from her before she could consciously decide what she wanted to know.

He looked at her so intently that she could almost see him deciding whether to lie or not before stating bluntly, “Piece o’ shit thug for hire. Why’d ya stop tattooing?”

It wasn’t a detailed answer but from what she could tell it was an honest one. That alone pushed her to give an honest answer of her own.

“It was part of my life that I wanted to leave behind. Needed to leave behind. The work itself wasn’t the problem, it was all the memories that came with it. I suppose I felt that I had to become someone else entirely in order to move on.”

“So what’s changed now?”

She paused before starting the next stitch to glare at him disapprovingly, “Not so fast, it’s my turn. Why are you in Southampton?”

“Chasin’ up loose ends. Answer the question,” he demanded.

Her brow furrowed further at his obvious avoidance tactics, “That’s a shit answer! That tells me absolutely nothing!”

Pete sighed in exasperation before reluctantly elaborating, “There’s a drug that’s hit the states. It’s fuckin’ destructive ‘n addictive. Plus they’re usin’ kids as mules.”

Kiera couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath before it escaped from between her clenched teeth. She hoped that he would interpret it as a natural reaction to his last statement and not infer any deeper meaning.

_Drugs. It always comes back to drugs._

“And it’s here?” she breathed.

“From what I can tell, this is its home.”

Knowing that this new information would be keeping her up for the next few nights, Kiera decided to drop the subject for now. She had enough self awareness to know that enquiring any further would be too slippery a slope for her.

“Nothing has changed in particular,” she circled back to his last question. “I just missed it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job but it’s never been my passion. Not like inking was. I don’t have a licence currently so I have to stick to fake skin but that’s enough for now. It just feels… It feels so good to be designing again.”

Slightly embarrassed by how impassioned she unintentionally sounded, Kiera re-focussed on her sutures.

Pete, however, was apparently not done with his line of enquiry.

“You stopped sketching as well?”

“Yep. Completely cold turkey.”

He let out a low incredulous whistle, “For how long?”

“Five years.” She chuckled in self-deprecation, “I’m surprised that I’m any good still, to be honest.”

“From what I saw, ya are. Really good.”

She knew that she shouldn’t have been so affected by that simple compliment but she was. She really was.

“Thanks,” she muttered, her mouth forming into a shy smile.

There was something about this stoic, war-torn man that played havoc with her emotions. She had no idea how she could go from thinking about one of the worst nights of her life to blushing like a schoolgirl at the smallest amount of flattery.

If Pete sensed her sudden bashfulness, he made no indication. Instead, he pressed on, “I thought tattoo artists were meant to be covered in tats, how come you ain't got any?”

“None that you can see,” retorted Kiera, regaining enough of her confidence to smirk cheekily.

She knew that it was way past his turn to answer a question but she decided to let it go. After so many years of pretending that her life started at twenty three, she was surprised at how nice it was to actually talk about her past a little.

“Whilst I was training,” she continued, “I worked at a local café for some steady income. The owners were good people but very traditional. They didn’t want me to have any work done that couldn’t be covered up by my uniform. So no tattoos on my arms, neck or face.

“When I stopped working there, I was ready to start a full sleeve on this arm,” she indicated to her left arm, “But my nana begged me not to. Said that I couldn’t afford to be a young, mixed race girl and have visible tattoos. With my skin being the colour that it is, people would already be looking for reasons to pigeonhole me. I hated that she was probably right and that I wasn’t strong enough to not give a shit.”

Despite her curiosity, she wasn’t brave enough to look up at Pete and gauge his reaction to the deeply personal confession that she had just made. Instead, she concentrated on tying up her final stitch.

Once she was satisfied that the job was done, she stood up and finally met Pete’s dark, calculating stare. She wasn’t quite sure what exactly possessed her to say what she said next. Maybe it was an attempt to lighten the mood, maybe it was those black eyes getting the better of her.

She gestured to herself with a slow brush of her hand and quirked a suggestive eyebrow, “But under these clothes? I am covered, Pete, head to toe.”

Whatever response she had been expecting, it wasn’t for his jaw to tighten as he slowly pushed himself up from the edge of the bath. With a predatory grace, he moved towards her, invading her space until her back was pushed firmly up against the sink.

“Covered?” he growled, his already deep voice impossibly lower.

Refusing to show any weakness Kiera, held his intense gaze and repeated, “Covered.”

A low noise resounded from his chest, sending shivers up and down Kiera’s spine, “Ya shouldn’t go ‘bout tellin’ guys that, darlin’.”

“And why’s that?”

“‘Cause they might start imaginin’ what ya look like. Under those clothes.”

Any resolve that Kiera might’ve had all but disappeared at that gruff declaration. It was all she could do to stop her knees giving out. A small sound that was embarrassingly close to a whimper escaped her.

Before she could decide whether to turn away or lean in further, Pete’s intensity gave way to a satisfied smirk.

_Damn him, he thinks he’s won. Fuck it, he has won._

He rocked back on his heels and continued as if nothing had just happened, “These stitches are jus’ as good as the last ones, darlin’. Thank you.”

All Kiera could do was stare at him dumbfounded as redressed himself and collected his coat. She still couldn’t form a coherent thought when he made to leave the bathroom. She only just had enough mental faculties to follow him silently to the entryway.

It was only when he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a stack of twenty pound notes that she snapped out of her dreamlike state.

“Wait, wait! No more money Pete! I appreciate the gesture but I really can’t accept that. In fact, I was meaning to say earlier: I can’t accept what you’ve already given me.”

He looked up from counting the notes, confusion playing across his brow, “Why not?”

“Why not? I mean for starters, even if stealing from work and performing unlicensed medical procedures wasn’t illegal already, the exchange of money definitely makes it so! Not to mention the fact that I didn’t help you expecting to be paid for it,” Kiera snapped.

Pete looked instantly contrite and conceded, “I know but I don’t know who else t’ repay ya.”

“I’ll take the CD. ‘Tunnel of Love’ is a great album anyways. It’s actually one of the few that my dad’s old collection is missing.”

After deliberating for a heavy moment, he finally offered, “At least keep what I already gave ya’.”

“Pete, I ca-”

“Please, Kiera. I won’t try n’ give ya more after that,” he implored.

“Still…”

“It’s purely selfish, darlin’. Makes me feel better ‘bout takin’ up your time like this.”

Unable to refuse him any further, especially when he was looking at her like that, she threw her hands up into the air in defeat, “Fine. Fine! But just know that even thinking about all that money makes me hugely uncomfortable.”

“Noted.”

With that, he reached out to grab the door handle. Kiera’s hand snapped forward to grab his before he could complete the movement.

“Pete, there’s something that I need to say before you go.” She struggled with how to articulate something that had been playing on her mind for the last few minutes, “If what you say is true, if you really are chasing down a drug operation, then I want to help.”

Pete’s thunderous glare pulled her up short and she quickly clarified, “Wait, hear me out. I’m not offering to do whatever it is your doing, I’d be useless out there anyways. I mean, if you get hurt again, I want you to come here. Unless it’s really serious. I’m not a doctor by any means but I think I’ve done a decent enough job so far.”

“What happened to worryin’ ‘bout this bein’ illegal?”

“Oh it definitely is. But this goes beyond that. What I was saying earlier, about the other time that I’d seen a gunshot wound? That was drugs. I’m not one hundred percent sure who exactly pulled the trigger but I know it was because he was late on payments. He was an addict, he was sick but that didn’t matter. If I can help, even in a small way, to take down people responsible for that kind of horror, I have to.”

As she finished her tirade, her own words caught up with her. What she had just revealed to him was something that not even Laura knew a lot about. It was something that she didn’t even really acknowledge to herself.

She was terrified that he would press for more information. That he would ask who ‘he’ was or what had happened to him. But he didn’t.

Instead, understanding coloured his features and simply agreed, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He nodded sharply.

Hardly believing what was happening, Kiera stammered, “Oh, um, okay, well let me give you my number then, in case I’m not home next time.”

They exchanged numbers then he stepped out into the corridor before turning to her to say goodbye.

“I don’t suppose you'll give me your name after all of that?” She quipped, unable to resist asking at least once before he left.

He shook his head, chuckling darkly, “Goodnight Kiera.”

“Night, whoever you are.”

He gave her one last crooked grin before heading down the hall, leaving her to watch him leave yet again.

Once she had closed her flat door, Kiera slid down against it to sit on the floor, her head in her hands. So much had just happened that she didn’t know what to process first.

Unfortunately, her worked up body made the decision for her before she could. The memory of his defined, muscular torso superseded any rational thought that she might’ve had. She could still hear his gruff voice as he called her ‘darlin’’, she could still feel his warm breath as he had crowded her personal space.

She was left with the same nervous energy as last week except this time she had no inclination to tattoo. Instead she pulled herself off the floor and headed straight for her bedroom.

She knew that she would feel ashamed afterwards but at that moment, urgency won out. Images of the man who’d just left her flat flooded her brain as her hand found its way under the waistband of her trousers

_Fuck._

* * *

Frank had intended to carry on walking. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t dishonour Kiera by staring up at her well-lit flat like a teenage boy.

He had only meant to glance up.

He hadn’t expected to see Kiera fly across her flat and storm into her bedroom. Her bedroom with a large window. A window that clearly displayed her bed.

The very same bed that she was currently laid across, still in the same clothes that he’d left her in.

Her head thrown back.

Why hadn’t she drawn the curtains?

Did she want him to see?

No, he quickly dismissed that thought. She could have no idea that he was currently staring up at her, his jaw slack and his heart racing.

God, he was in so much trouble.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


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